View Larger Map
Tuesday, November 26th – Esfahan
I had a reasonable sleep last night. I only had to go to the bathroom three times. Coen and Vincent are up early to get ready to leave. They are meeting Kate and Stephen at their hotel, where they have been spending some time so not to disturb me. They leave me more packets of supplements and their stock of Imodium. Vincent reassures me they will wait for me in Zahedan. He asks me to leave a message for him about where I am staying at the Poste Restante and he will check it each day. I feel somewhat more assured but anything could still go wrong with me before I get there.
Now they have left and I feel abandoned and at a bit of a loss. I remember how Mike Silk would disappear if I was sick or injured, and although these guys are nurses, it feels much the same. I need to trust in my ability to get by, even when I am sick.
I am quite weak from hunger. I decide to go out and have a cup of tea somewhere. I bring my camera along in case I have enough energy to walk around. I first stop at the check in desk to see how Rashid’s visit to the police station went. He is there and he isn’t very pleasant to me. He tells me the police held him in jail overnight to punish him because I was robbed, because his hotel has brought shame on Iran by letting this happen to a foreigner. I am horrified. I say I am sorry that this happened to him, that I had not intended this when I asked for his assistance. He says his night in jail was the most humiliating experience in his life and now his family’s reputation has been stained. I tell him he has done nothing wrong but he turns away from me, waving his hand for me to go.
I am feeling quite upset over Rashid’s jailing and his anger towards me. Perhaps it is best not to stay at his hotel after this but without money where can I go? Instead of looking for a café I go straight to the police station to continue my report. It is quite busy and the ‘reception room’ is full. To my surprise the young man who robbed me is sitting there waiting for his turn to be interviewed. He looks terrified, and I would be too. I shoot him a sympathetic look and he looks surprised, but grateful too.
I sit there have an hour, sharing the waiting room with him and a few others. I feel like giving him a hug. I feel no resentment or anger towards him now, knowing what he is facing. The police constable who started my interview yesterday brings me tea. He sees I am acting kindly to my accused robber and it confuses him. I don’t mind. I suspect they will go lighter on him when they see I am not angry about the situation. Eventually, I am called in and I spend another half hour being interviewed. I wasn’t questioned why I was being friendly to the thief. I suppose I am just a strange Westerner to them.
I feel better when it is over. Know I will never get my money back or any of the contents of my money belt but I will survive, I hope. I find a café and order a tea. I put lots of sugar in it and that gives me a bit of energy. I also buy some sugar candies that I can suck for energy, and some juice, since I cannot stomach solid food yet.
I wander back to Nagsh-e Jahan Square and take more photos. The square, which the mullahs now call the Imam Square, is a World Heritage Site dating from the Renaissance era in Europe. It is huge, half a kilometre from north to south and a sixth of a kilometre from east to west. On the west side is the Ali Qapu Palace
where the Shah used to live. The Shah Mosque on the south end was the official main public mosque when it was the nation’s capital, and the Sheikh Loftallah Mosque was the private mosque for the Shah’s harem. 
After spending a few minutes in the palace, I wander into the courtyard of the Shah Mosque, and then into the courtyard of the Sheikh Loftallah, but only into the parts where I don’t need to where my shoes. They are both adorned with the most amazing tile work, more intricate than the Blue Mosque in Turkey. Women in black burkas flutter by, adding to the exotic appearance of the unfamiliar but exquisite architecture. These are the mosques I dreamed of seeing, with their colours and patterns. I just had no idea where they would be. Even the Blue Mosque, perhaps the most-visited one in the world, in bland in comparison.
I don’t have a lot of stamina yet so I make my way back to the hotel after an hour. Rashid is still at the desk and still refusing to look at me or answer my greeting. This is very uncomfortable. I spend the rest of the evening in my room to rest and so that I won’t need to pass by him again.
PHOTO 1: music room in the Ali Qapu Palace
PHOTO 2: Sheikh Loftallah Mosque
PHOTO 3: telephoto of Sheikh Loftallah Mosque's dome
PHOTO 4: from the inside courtyard of the mosque
PHOTO 5: the inside of the dome of Sheikh Loftallah
PHOTO 6: the Shah mosque
PHOTO 7: the outer courtyard of the Shah Mosque
PHOTO 8: more of the Shah Mosque
PHOTO 9: a decorative mirab in the Shah Mosque
PHOTO 10: woman in a burka, entrance to the inner courtyard
PHOTO 11: inner courtyard of the Shah Mosque
No comments:
Post a Comment